


Wild West

by Rumo (Triteia)



Series: Alternate Universe Clintasha [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Avengers (Comics), Black Widow (Comics), Hawkeye (Comics), High Noon (1952), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Western, America, Apache!Clint, Bounty Hunter, Bounty Hunter!natasha, Dead or Alive - Freeform, Engineer Tony Stark, F/M, Native American, Saloon, Sheriff - Freeform, Sheriff!Coulson, Starks Saloon, Tony collects misfits, Western, Wild West, apache, high noon, sharpshooter, wanted
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-08
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-06-07 09:02:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15215732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Triteia/pseuds/Rumo
Summary: Set in the Wild West, Clint Barton got adopted by an Apache Tribe and now goes under Hawkeye. When he takes the risk and visits Stark's Saloon, the Balck Widow, feared bounty hunter is on his heels. Will everything turn out right for once?





	1. Chapter 1

Sherriff Phillip Coulson rode through a quiet town. It was just before sundown and most of his sheep were still sleeping. He’d just returned from a trip to the next town, helping his friend and colleague Nick Fury take care of some outlaws. His own town had been quiet in the last weeks. Nothing happened besides a few bar fights in Stark’s Saloon.

He liked the quiet. As a young man, he’d been to war and found he’d seen enough dead for a lifetime. The post as Sheriff was presented to him after his Service and he gladly took it. It was a stable income for someone like him that never learned to be anything else than a soldier.

Phil greeted Miss Romanoff, one of Stark’s Saloon girls who just opened the window to her flat. She saluted mockingly and smiled.  He didn’t really knew anything about her but found the mysterious Aura she kept around herself fascinating. She’d showed up a few months ago, claiming a bounty for a dead bandit she brought with her and stayed in Stark’s service since then. Apparently, the richest man in town paid well and the tips she got were unusually high.

Natasha smiled as she saw their Sheriff return. Coulson was a decent man and didn’t ask any questions when she collected her bounty. She quickly dressed in her black blouse and skirt, arranging her hair in a bun. Today would be long and exhausting. Her boss Anthony Stark was throwing a party for some relatives visiting and she knew from experience that his parties usually lasted until morning and beyond. Grabbing her colt and riffle, she went out to her horse to get some training done before she’d have to start her shift. The red-head always went in the early morning to prevent curious looks. A ten-minute ride from the town, she’d set up a few targets to practise on.

A lone figure stood on top of one of the large stone formations in Monument valley. In the distance, he could see the outline of a small town. A group of riders and coaches made their way towards it, leaving a trail of dust in their wake. Technically, he knew he probably shouldn’t go there. It was too dangerous to be recognized even though he’d changed his appearance since he was on the run. On the other hand, the ammunition for his riffle was close to none existent and real cooked food would be a nice change to the little birds and rabbits he hunted.

His most recognizable feature, the longbow was safely stored between his saddlebags together with two quivers full of hand crafted arrows. The purple fletching he usually used would give him away right away so he’d made new ones, leaving the others in a camp fire. The blonde looked at the tent he set up on top of the sand-stone platform, examining the nails he used to secure it. One had to be a good climber to reach this spot and it wasn’t visible from below which made it the perfect camp. With a sigh, he decided to leave the bow and riffle behind. They would only draw attention and the more ordinary he looked the better.

He dragged a hand through his now short hair before placing the dirty white cowboy hat on his head. It was decorated with a braided leather band and several hawk feathers. The only things he wasn’t willing to hide. They had been a gift from the Apache chief after his warrior trial. Each for every challenge he mastered to be accepted as part of their clan. He’d worn them in his long hair like the other warriors, decorating the blonde braids with pearls and leather. Those days however where over.

He shrugged on a fairly clean grey shirt and hid the thumb-wide braid coming from the lower back of his head by tying a black scarf around his neck. The braid reached to his hips by now and was everything that was left of his once long hair.  He tucked the scarf in the front of his shirt, copying the look he’d seen most men his age wear. Last was the brown leather belt and holster for his colt before he shrugged on a dark brown vest. It felt strange to go without his bow but the cold feeling of the twin set of throwing knives strapped to his forearms calmed him.

Once he reached the bottom of the giant stone formation, he whistled a certain pattern until the blonde saw a familiar silhouette sprinting towards him. Soon, the light brown mustang came into view and he readily jumped on the horse when it ran past him. They took a little look around the area before he steered the animal back in the direction of his camp. He knew the horse hated saddles even more than he did but it would look strange if he would arrive without one. Years, he had only ever used a thick woven blanket to protect the animals back from his clothes but now that they were forced to travel in disguise, the blonde had switched to a lightweight black saddle.

As usual Natasha was the first in the Saloon. It would be an hour before the guests even arrived in town and even longer before the party but she liked the quiet. It also gave her the opportunity to snatch a drink or two without Tony noticing. He really had good whisky in stock. Suddenly, the double doors of the Saloon swung open and a young man walked in. It was way before opening hours and she opened her mouth to send him away when he was already sitting in front of her at the bar. “We’re closed.” Natasha stated nonetheless, continuing to scrub the counter she was cleaning. The man laughed faintly, before placing a bill on the table. “I’m here, you’re here and that bottle of whisky is also here. So, where is the problem?” His blonde hair only barley peaked out from under the hat he was wearing and stood prominently against his tanned skin. The white cowboy hat had clearly seen better days but she still noticed the five Hawk-feathers immediately. Now interested, the red-head collected the bill and brought him a glass and the bottle he wanted. If he was who she thought, the prize on his head was high enough to last her a lifetime.

She took a seat on the counter next to him, stealing a sip from his glass “What does a young man like you do in my Saloon so early in the morning?” Natasha purred seductively. He smirked, seemingly oblivious to her flirting “I need advice, you looked like you could help me out. I want to buy some charges for a 50-90 Sharps Riffle. Where do you think I can get some?”

She paused for a moment, looking at him again. The Riffle would fit the description, too. Everything did besides his looks. The man on the wanted poster was clad in Apache leather pants, had a wild assortment of blonde braids decorated with feathers and pearls and a tattoo of a charging Hawk on his chest. While the stranger at her bar wore cowboy attire, had a beard and short cropped hair. Still, Natasha was sure it was the same person. Physically at last. “Only our Sheriff sells them. He should be in his Office by now. If you care to stay, there is going to be grand party later.”

He nodded, downing the rest of his Whiskey and placed some more notes on the counter before grabbing the bottle “Thank you Miss for your help but I am afraid I don’t excel at being good company. It was a pleasure to meet you.” With that, he turned around, pushing through the door in the early sunlight. Natasha Immediately went to her room and searched for the Assortment of Wanted-Posters she carried with her until she found the one she was looking for. If it wasn’t for his skin colour, the man could have easily been mistaken for a native. She quickly re-read the description under the drawing ‘Wanted dead or Alive, Hawkeye of the Apache tribe 12,000 US Dollars. Wanted for mass-murder of 37 US Army soldiers at fort Nichols and various cases of theft. Apply extreme caution, the fugitive is very dangerous and armed. Any clues that lead to his capture are rewarded with 5,000 US Dollars.’ A small smile tugged on her lips, she would tell Sheriff Coulson and split the bounty. Then, she would buy some Land along the Yukon and open her own Saloon. This one wouldn’t slip through her hands.      

But now it was time for her to return to the Saloon. The other girls would be there soon and there was still a lot of work to be done. Back on the dusty street, she saw a beautiful light brown horse in front of Starks establishment. A Mustang no question the way it slightly moved to bring the light saddle in a more comfortable position. This animal was clearly not used to saddles but looked well trained and calm. His horse. The Apache were known for catching and taming the fierce wild mustangs as part of their warrior trial. The intelligent dark eyes watched her when she walked past it as if to determine whether she proved to be a threat or not. So, he was still here.

 

Clint hesitated before knocking on the Sheriff’s office. All kinds of thoughts flitted through his head. There could be wanted posters of him in this region. The man could get suspicious of the kind of ammunition he was buying. With a sigh, he raised his fist and tapped against the door a few times. If he wasn’t mistaken, the Black Widow had just served him Whisky. There was no way she didn’t recognize him. He needed the ammo. And he needed to get off this damn wanted posters that kept popping up everywhere.

Maybe he would go north, follow the gold seekers and hide in the mountains but Lucky was a prairie animal. He would freeze in the snow. He entered once the faint “come in” sounded through the wood. The office was a little bigger than he though with three holding cells in the back and a large wooden desk in one corner. Behind it sat a middle aged man with a resending hairline and little grey streaks in his otherwise dark brown hair. Everything about him screamed ex-military. He wore a dark grey suit with a blue scarf around his neck and had his feet propped up on the desk in front of him. Beside the Sheriff leaned a well-used but shining double barrel that matched the set of revolvers on his hips.

Clint straightened his shoulders and walked over to take a seat on the other stool. The other man smiled faintly, taking the feet off his desk before asking “What can I do for you?” his tone was neutral, nothing indicated he’d recognized the blonde.

He returned the smile “I need some ammunition for my Riffle. The nice Lady in the Saloon told me to come to you.” Talking had always been his strong suit. There were little people that could lie as good as he did. “I want to go with the Gold diggers and try my luck along the Yukon but I heard the bears in that area are enormous. Better come prepared, right?”

The Sheriff chuckled at his displayed enthusiasm. “Well come on then, we don’t want you to get eaten by a grizzly.” At only 22, most people still didn’t take him seriously. Clint used that to his advantage. “Thank you, Sheriff.”

“Call me Coulson, what kind of riffle do you have? Winchester? Spencer?” The older man walked through a small corridor next to the cells. The whole wall was littered with Wanted posters. Most of them newer but also some that were close to ten years old. In the middle of bearded faces, Clint found himself twice. One was the first sketch they made and didn’t look like him at all. At that time, he was still with the tribe and barley 15. The other was newer, probably made right after he broke out of Fort Nichols two years ago. It showed his upper body, including the tattoo on his chest.

Not letting the discomfort show, he shrugged, and too, moved into the little room “A Sharps 50-90. Inherited it from my old man.” It was crammed with various boxes of ammunition but exceptionally tidy. Everything was labelled and sorted. “Yeah, a good Weapon.” Coulson said and moved some boxes around until he found what he was looking for. “I can only give you 30 rounds. They lowered it a few months ago.”

“30 are fine” Clint smiled “I hope I don’t run into that many Grizzlies anyways.” He did a few calculations in his head. If he hunted solely with his bow, they would last him 30 bodies, more if the attackers stood in the right position. It wasn’t much but would suffice until he found a more permanent home.

Back at his desk, the Sheriff took out a large leather-bound book. “I will need your Name and signature over here:” he pointed to where he’d noted the number and kind of rounds. “I have to keep track of the ammo I give out. That makes 8 dollars.”

“Clint Barton” the blonde took out a few notes and placed them on the table. There was no reason to tell a fake name. Nobody knew his real name anyways. Since he was four, he was called “little Hawk” and eventually “Hawkeye” by Chief Gouyen and the white people never cared to ask for his birth name. Coulson turned the book around and handed the fountain pen over. “That’s all. Will you be staying here longer? I heard Tony Stark plans a big party today.”

Clint shook his head with a smile “Nah, I have a long way to travel. But I will definitely thank the nice Lady for forwarding me to you before I leave.”

“Ah, well, good luck then. And say Hi to Natasha from me.”  Coulson smiled and offered his hand. He shook it and immediately noticed the gun callouses. “Will do. Thanks Sheriff.” With that, he tipped his hat and left.


	2. Chapter 2

Once outside in the sun, the tension left his body a little. He was sure the Sheriff hadn’t recognized him. The man was to upfront to hunt him down without his knowledge. The Black Widow though seemed to know exactly who he was and that could prove to be a problem. She wasn’t rumoured to be the best bounty hunter in the whole Wild West for nothing. But he would play dumb like always and keep her thinking she had the upper hand. The game was on.

Natasha and Pepper were just finished with the arrangement of the tables when a suit-clad Tony Stark stormed into the Saloon. “Pep? Do you have everything ready? Rhodey just told me the guests were early and already in sight.”

The strawberry blonde smiled at her husband. Tony was always in a hurry, too focused on his new gun-designs for everything else. “Relax honey. Natasha and I just finished. Peggy and Sharon will be over in a few to help out at the bar.” The guests were possible investors for a new riffle Stark was working on. He planned on presenting it in the Saloon and have a big party afterwards to socialise.  

Stark dropped on one of the barstool and poured himself a scotch when the doors opened, and a familiar Figure approached Natasha. He took a seat besides Stark and ordered a beer. Pepper smirked and left the catering to her, rearranging some of the decoration. Once the glass was placed in front of him, the blonde smiled at her “Thank you for sending me to Coulson. He had the 50-90’s in stock. The Sheriff says Hi.”

“No problem. I’m glad I could be of help.” She smiled, accepting the bills he held out. Stark turned his head at the mention of bullets “You have a 50-90 Sharps? Those are quite rare on the market. Impressive reach. I had a hard time to build something more accurate.”

Clint shrugged, unconcerned “Inherited it from my old man. It did me good service so far.” The ‘service’ he was talking about included a few dead soldiers here and there that he’d buried in the desert when they came to close.

“If you are interested in Riffles, I can show you my new design. There will be a demonstration later but look more like a hands-on guy.” He gestured at Clint’s cowboy attire.

The blonde didn’t really liked where this was going but it was best to play along. Anything else would only rise suspicion. “Sure, why not.” A slight smile on his lips, he finished the beer as Stark made a move stand up. “Pep! I will be back in a few. Entertain the guests while I’m gone.” Pepper shook her head and rolled her eyes in Natasha’s direction. That was Tony for you, always more interested in the Tech than selling the stuff he made.

Tony guided him through the back-door on a large field equipped with targets of various sizes at different distances. “Here,” he said handing over a sleek looking all-metal riffle “It’s my new model. I call her the Arc. She has the furthest range of all guns and a great accuracy.”

Clint wasn’t even listening anymore. He weighed the weapon in his hand and held it to his shoulder, looking down the barrel. It was beautiful. Carefully, the blonde lined up a shot and aimed at one of the targets. The first bullet hit a few centimetres away from where he aimed at and he corrected the mounted visor a little, taking another shot. This time, the bullet went true. With a broad smile, he handed the riffle back to Stark. “How much?”

Tony beamed at him “I only have five at the moment and they are not for sale yet. Natasha keeps asking me about them. However I hope they get in production within the next month.”

“A shame. It’s perfect.” Clint stated, moving to walk back to the Saloon. He’d been here too long already. Stark however gestured him to come back “If you like, you can shoot a little. I could arrange for you to get one of the first Arc’s once they are finished.” Even though his mind screamed at him to run, the Archer circled back with hesistance and took the riffle again. He checked the chamber, a six-shot, and the engineer handed him two more bullets to replace the ones he already shot. “If you get me a bullseye on all six, there is a bottle of Whisky waiting for you inside.” Tony said, watching him take aim. “Deal” Clint grinned after the first bullet embedded itself right in the middle of the first target. The next three felled a glass bottle each and the last two both went in the bullseye of the target furthest away. “Wow” was all the man next to him said “That bottle is well deserved my friend.” He knew he was showing off even though he shouldn’t. Technically, he told himself that he would easily have been able to hit a target twice the distance so it didn’t count as showing off but the small voice in his head kept reminding him that he was in fact a wanted criminal and should be avoiding attention.

“You know what?” he heard Stark next to him “I need a new guard anyways since Happy broke his leg. If you work for me for, ah… let’s say four months for two thirds of the pay, you get to keep that one. Food and a room is included for you and your horse.” The offer was good, too good. He thought about it for a moment, running the possibilities through in his head. It was safer if he avoided contact as much as possible but he couldn’t run forever. Two years alone on the run had taken its toll on him. If the Widow knew who he was she’d hunt him down either way so he might as well stay.  

He took the outstretched hand and shook it “Under one condition: Don’t brag to anyone about my shooting, not even your wife okay? I like to keep a low profile.”

Stark shrugged “Sure, you a wanted man or something? I wouldn’t mind, you seem alright. I’m Tony Stark by the way.” Taken aback by the open answer, Clint smirked holding his hand out again “Clint Barton, can I trust you to not rat me out?”

“Sure, you know, I’m married to one of the best thieves in America.” Interesting, Clint thought. Then, he remembered a female art thief that made the talk of the week a few years back and smiled. “In that case, you might know me under ‘Hawkeye’.”

Tony’s eyes almost popped out of his skull “The Apache warrior that took down an entire Fort when they erased his tribe? No way! But you are white!” The blonde chuckled and lifted his shirt just high enough to show him the ‘red-skin’ that was branded into his hip when they caught him with the rest of the tribe. “The chief adopted me when I was four, found me somewhere in the desert. And I can assure you I wouldn’t have killed them all if they just let us go. We were a friendly tribe, only in quarrels with the Comanche and Kree.” Stark nodded in agreement “The military types over here are mostly assholes. Always want to get my layouts before anyone else. Don’t worry I won’t tell. Now, let’s go back inside. I still owe you a bottle Whisky.” Together, they made their way back in the Saloon and Clint went to go, get the stuff from his camp, while Tony greeted the first guests.

 

Natasha watched the two men disappear through the back door. Tony would give him a job that much was obvious. He liked to collect the broken people and give them a new purpose and didn’t care about backstories. Upon her employment he hadn’t even asked but she was sure he knew exactly who she was. Her suspicion proved to be true when they came back inside and Hawkeye had left his hat on the counter next to her with a wink “Watch that for me, will ya?” before he was out the door and on his horse.

It was a peace offering and she knew it. He had probably recognised her and left his most prominent feature with her, the five hawk feathers on his hat. She could either try and hunt him down or accept that she would never see the money for his bounty.

Who was she kidding? Natasha wouldn’t rat him out. They shared a too similar backstory and she found that she liked the blonde. He had that no-nonsense attire she liked and didn’t look at her like a piece of meat. The fact that he knew who she really was meant the read-head wouldn’t have to disguise herself in his presence. It would be nice for a change to take someone out shooting instead of going alone all the time. It was hard to admit but everyone needed friends and she already stayed longer than planned because she found common ground with Pepper. If he proved to be a problem she could still turn him over to Coulson and run with the bounty.

More guests started to arrive, all clad in expensive clothes, and she had to focus back on her Job. Natasha recognized most of the men, wealthy business people she’d stolen from time to time.

 

With a last forceful pull, he heaved himself up on the red stone platform. The way up caused him a welcomed feeling of exhaustion. After packing what he thought would be unsuspicious enough to take back into town, Clint sat down on the edge, feet dangling in thin air. It probably wasn’t the best idea to go and work for Stark but he was so sick of running. Down below him, he could see Lucky speeding over the planes now that he was relieved from the saddle. He had adjusted the tent so that is was flatter and less assailable to the wind. Now, it only barley reached above the surface and sheltered his bow and arrows, old leather pants he wore in the Tribe, most of his money and the colourful blanket he used as saddle. His stuff was already down on the ground but Clint couldn’t bring himself to move away. He admired the beauty of the landscape while watching more people arrive in town. It was time to get back or Tony would think he dumped him last second.

Back on the ground, Lucky was already waiting for him expectantly. Somehow the horse always seemed to know when it was needed.

No ten minutes later, he took his stuff and placed it in the Saloons backyard before relieving the mustang of its saddle. It hurt him to cage Lucky in the paddock belonging to the house but if he wanted to keep up the façade he had to play safe for a few weeks.

Inside, he made a beeline for the bar to recollect his hat only to find that the red-head was wearing it. “Suits you” he said, sliding on one of the barstools on the side, away from the main action. She finished up the guest she was serving and placed a whisky in front of him with a smile “Thanks. So Tony gave you a job?” Natasha gracefully hopped to sit on the counter next to him before gently placing the hat back on his head. The peace offering had been accepted. “Yup. As Guard.” He answered, swirling his drink. She offered a hand that he took to place a kiss on her knuckles “My Name is Natasha Romanoff, welcome to the family.” Her smile was easy and natural. “Clint Barton”

 

The Evening developed quickly. Tony’s presentation was great and half of the investors already wanted to buy parts of the patent before he was even done. After the formal part, it quickly turned into drinking and singing to the songs Pepper played on the piano.

Clint stayed at his place beside the bar the whole evening and watched. It felt good to be back among people. However a few hours after midnight, he had enough and was glad for Stark telling him he didn’t really had stay there the whole time, first day and all. The engineer extracted himself from the party long enough to show him the room he could stay and even helped to carry his bags upstairs.

The window had easy roof access, so he took a bottle of Whisky, the first one he bought that morning, and climbed up to watch the stars. The roof was slightly sloped so he could lay on his back to watch the night sky but didn’t have to sit up to take a sip from the bottle.

 

Natasha was glad when the last guests retired to their rooms and she could finally leave. They would clean up in the morning. On the way to her room, she passed Barton’s finding it empty. The door wasn’t closed so she stepped in to take a look around. A few bags were dumped next to the bed, otherwise there was the bottle of whisky Stark handed him today on the little table by the open window. The open window…

She found him on the roof, laying on his back a half empty bottle in hand and looking at the stars. Carefully, she sat beside him, taking a deep swing from the offered whisky. “So, Hawkeye, how did you end up here?” she asked making no move to hand the bottle back. “Same as you I guess, I was tired of running. Right Widow?” The mention of her nickname still stung even though she already suspected he knew who she was. “Tony likes to collect broken people. He pays well though.” The blonde hummed in agreement.

 

They sat in silence, sharing the Whisky for another hour before Natasha stood to climb back inside. Clint followed her. Morning was dawning and he should probably sleep a little. He slipped through the window right after but stumbled a little due to the alcohol, accidentally bringing their faces close together. She could feel his hot breath on her lips and leaned in for a kiss before rationality could stop her. At first, he was a little stunned but returned the kiss after a few seconds, pushing her up against the wall. Together, they stumbled over to the bed and he dropped down first, pulling Natasha after him so she landed on his chest. A well placed throw of his boot later, the door was closed and she already worked on the buttons of his vest, abandoning her blouse and skirt. When she took the first button of his grey shirt, he grabbed her hand shaking his head “Please don’t”. She moved back a little to look at him, a pained look in his eyes, partly grief, partly embarrassment. “Shh. It’s okay I also have some, see?” the red-head pointed to the various scars and healed gunshot wounds on her body. After a moment, Clint nodded, releasing her hand.

She continued her work and felt his calloused hands roam her petite body until they settled on her hips. Natasha could see why he wanted to keep the shirt on. His muscular frame was littered with scars that stood out against his tanned skin and she had to retrain herself to not reach out for the patch of burned skin on his hip that read ‘red-skin’ in angry uneven letters. Scars probably caused by a whip crept over his shoulder blades on his upper chest.

She smirked at the decorated braid that appeared once she took off the shirt completely. There were little beads woven into the strands and she could almost imagine how his hair must have looked like before. So, he kept something from his heritage, Natasha whispered under her breath “cute” as she examined it. The Archer wanted to say something but once he opened his mouth, she covered it with hers, closing the distance.

 

Something bright shone in his face and he turned to the side, falling to the ground with a loud ‘thund’. Clint groaned, slowly opening his eyes and looked around. He was in the room Stark showed him last night, still tangled in thin sheets. Blinking, he sat up to evaluate the situation. There were clothes strewn across the floor, one of his boots lay next to the door. A strong headache located in his forehead clouded both his mind and memory. The blonde heaved himself up on the bed to continue his cataloguing of his surroundings. There were a few strands of red hair on the mattress. Red hair. And the memories from last night came flooding in.

“Shit” he muttered reaching for his pants.

Once fully dressed, he sneaked down in the backyard and made a beeline for the barrel of water next to the drain. Clint dipped his head in the ice-cold water and waited until he couldn’t hold his breath anymore. Resurfacing with a loud gasp, he drew air in his lungs only to dip right back in. After repeating the process a few times, he felt better. Lucky was standing in the paddock and watched him curiously. For a moment, he could have sworn the horse looked reproachful.

When he entered the Saloon, Pepper and Natasha were already preparing breakfast and only a few minutes later, a very hung-over Tony came stumbling down the stairs. Clint was glad, that way he wouldn’t look so wasted in comparison. Everybody gathered around a large table and Pepper smirked at him knowingly when she passed the scrambled eggs.

Great.

**Author's Note:**

> The riffles mentioned are real (not the Arc obviously) and the Sharps is said to be one of the best from back then. If you have a good historical map from around Utah/Arizona, I would love to see it (Because as you might have noticed, that's roughly where the story is set). Also go and check out the Monument valley on Google, it's beautiful.  
> As always: I love reviews so drop me a comment:)


End file.
